Bubble Butt
by The Readers Muse
Summary: "Someone upstairs was having the world's longest laugh at his expense right now, he was god damned sure of it."


**Disclaimer:** I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters. Wishful thinking aside.

**Authors**** Note**** #1:** This is my fill response to a hilarious prompt posted on LJ at the TWD_Kink Meme community. The prompt was: "Daryl/Glenn DAT ASS: Under those jeans Glenn as a fine as hell, shapely little butt. Daryl develops a mini obsession with it." *Rated for: adult language, adult situations, and for Daryl being a complete fluff monster. I warn you, this is the least content thing I think I have** ever** written.

**Authors**** Note**** #2:** Please read and review. I am excited to see what you all think. I am open to comments, advice, and constructive criticism. (Again, this is probably the most useless fluff in the world but I am posting it anyway, don't hold it against me.)

**Bubble Butt**

…He wasn't exactly sure how he'd managed to go so wrong with such a simple, god damned sentence. But somehow he had. …_Fucking__ figures__ really.__ Especially__ considering __their l__uck__ lately.._ But what he _did_ know, was that he was getting pretty damned tired of being jerked around. Of feeling like the whole god damned universe was using his balls as their own personal bloody key chain. He could practically feel his hackles rising right then and there. _…_Life just wasn't fucking fair sometimes.

_Someone upstairs was having the world's longest laugh at his expense right now, he was god damned sure of it._

Because really, all he'd done was let his head roll, muscles flowing, all light and easy as he turned towards the kid, the both of them still flushed with success from their short supply run at that abandoned cabin only three miles from camp, and asked the younger man if there was any more beer. So far so good right? …_Wrong_. Because just after the kid nodded, flashing him a warm, rather self satisfied grin that mirrored the contented feeling only a full belly and a bottle of Samuel Adam's dark could rightly provide, the younger man had simply bent over right then and there, his arse practically _level_ with his face.

He'd gone from casual disinterest, to hard enough to pound_ nails_ in less then five seconds flat. …_Bloody.__ Fucking.__ Hell__…_

His eyes felt too wide for his face as he shifted in growing discomfort. The prominent bulge only growing between his legs as kid's rump shifted. Wriggling and lurching this way, then that as he rummaged through one of the bulging packs they had managed to collect. It was positively _indecent_.

Well... That was just…_unexpected._

But strangely _not_ in the way you'd first expect. Because he'd known of the existence of the man's rear, sure. It came right after the corded straight of the kid's hips. You couldn't fuckin' miss it. But apparently _seeing_ and _knowing_ were two entirely different things. ..Cause,_ ...damn._

Because the truth of the matter was that the kid had an ass to _kill_ for, outlined to picture perfection in those light blue jeans. Standing out like the wrapping on a god damned Christmas present. He felt like beating his head against a brick wall. 'Cause god knows this was all getting to be pretty fucking ridiculous. On top of everything else he had to deal with, now this? There was a special place being reserved for him in hell right now, he just fucking _knew_ it.

It was around that point, somewhere in between entertaining thoughts of how to properly classify the kid's rump, and the rather worrisome thought of what he would actually _do_ with said classification, that he realized he was_ still_ staring. .._Oh __fuck__ no!_

He wrenched his eyes away in less then a second flat. Half convinced he'd find the old man staring at him, horrified disapproval all but radiating out the top of that stupid bucket hat, or worse, finding himself pinned with one of those PR bullshit stares from Rick, or hell, even Shane. A look expertly crafted after sitting through one too many government funded workshops on tolerance or sexual difference to count. Thankfully however it seemed as though his momentary lapse had not been noticed. The others being far too busy stuffing their faces with the remains of the fowl and squirrel he'd managed to snag on their way back from the supply run to notice his sudden distraction. …_Thank__ Christ__ for__ small__ mercies._

After a long moment he cocked his head, eying the kid through the messy thatch of his sweat stiffened fringe as he accepted the luke warm bottle of beer, giving the younger man a curt nod in thanks as he busied himself with flicking off the top. Insides scrambling as he tried to temper down his reaction. Because really…_What__ the__ bloody__ Fuck?_

His reaction not with standing, he quickly decided that this was pretty much all the kid's fault. Running around in those sinfully tight blue jeans, standing… _Bending._ Hell he wouldn't be surprised if the kid was doing it all on purpose. _Show__casing__ the __goods__ as__ it__ were._ After all, the Korean was a smart, scrappy little thing. He'd proved that well enough in the past. He wouldn't put it past him to engage in a little flaunt 'in toss.

But he wasn't fallin' for it. Nope. Not one fucking bit…

Still. He decided he needed to investigate this further. The only problem with that plan however was that he hadn't seen the kid in anything _but_ jeans since they'd first rolled into that campsite just outside of Atlanta. It was just about as bad as that stupid baseball hat the kid insisted on wearing. As far as the kid was concerned they seemed all but synonymous with the other, hat to head, jeans to ass. It was simple, logical even. But still as frustrating as _hell_.

It was more then that though. There was something about this whole thing that he just couldn't shake. He couldn't figure out why he was suddenly so…_erm_… Obsessed? Nope, too needy sounding. Enthralled? Definitely not… Interested? Yeah, okay -… He could work with that. He couldn't figure out why he was suddenly so _interested_. It wasn't like the kid was particularly special or nothing. In fact if he was being honest the man was-…

He cut himself off in mid-thought; deciding not to look into the matter any more then that. Having the sneaking suspicion that he didn't like the direction the whole train of thought was heading towards anyway.. Instead, he decided to go about this situation the old fashioned way. _The__ Dixon __way._ He was going to figure this shit out even if it fuckin' killed him.

And just because fate was that much of a sloppy, loose legged cunt, he got his chance only two days later. When he was woken by the vibration of stampeding feet and the thin, cut off sound of the children screaming. _Walkers!_ - He tumbled out of his tent and into the early dawn gloom, cross bow at the ready as somewhere across camp Andrea screeched, rousing the others with a piercing echo that rolled through the mist, sending that wordless cry pitching through the tree line, chasing the muted echoes through the murky fog as the dead heads moaned, grunting with effort as they closed in from all sides.

He yarded the kid straight, yanking him up by the scruff of his collar as the younger man all but exploded out from the tent beside his, skidding on a muddy patch as they ran side by side towards the sound of Shane's Mossberg pealing off into the stillness and the bone crunching thwacks of hard edged metal falling across the crispness of dead flesh. - Joining the fray with a metallic crash as the hollow ring of mouldering muscle and well rotted bone split through the early morning air like the chorus of some long forgotten song.

In the end they dispatched over a half a dozen walkers, all without a single causality. And rightly so, the lot of them went about huggin' and celebrating. Reaffirming by touch what their eyes could already see. And while he paid their dramatics little mind, more concerned with finding his bolts then anything else, even he had to admit that the small victory was a welcome change. He knew he wasn't the only one gettin' sick and tired of all the blood and tears..

It was only when he pulled the last arrow free, ignoring the disgustingly slick sound as he ripped the bolt up through a particularly nasty looking eye socket, that he noticed it. That he _noticed_ Glenn standing only a few feet away, double checking a small pile of downed geeks with his foot. Apparently obvious to the fact that he somehow _not_ wearing pants.

_I see London, I see France indeed…_

Because there it was, like the sole ray of sunshine piercing through a hurricane hued sky. The kid's ass showcased to perfection in a pair of tight, forest green boxer briefs that left literally _nothing_ to the imagination. Even going so far as to reveal the tantalizing dip where buttocks met with spine, the dimples only _just_ visible under the rucked up hem of the man's shirt. With the rest of him gradually trailing down to lean, bare legged thighs and naked feet that were shoved haphazardly into a filthy pair of high top sneakers.

…He was torn between feeling remarkably satisfied, and whole other part sexually confused….

He had about thirty seconds in which to simply bask in his inadvertent victory, taking the kid in from head to toe, from smooth skinned buttocks to the rather decent looking package that graced the front of him. He grinned, canting his head to the side as he chewed on the ragged tip of a half torn finger nail. Nearly snorting in amusement as the kid twisted to the side. Prodding at one of the dead head's with his bat, inadvertently giving the entire world a rather well defined look at his goods in the process.

…_Looks__ like__** someone **__had__ a__ bit of a thing__ for__ the__ adrenaline __high.__ …__Actually__ a_**_ big_**_ thing__ if__ the __size__ of__ that__ bulge__ was __any __indication__…_

He let his gaze rove up the length of the man slowly, only meeting the kid's eyes when the younger man let loose a horrified sounding _"__meep!__"_ into the early morning air. And he was there for every, deliciously satisfying moment of it. The moment where the Koreans eyes widened, going comically large as realization slowly dawned. Eyes squeezing shut once and then twice as he slowly looked down at himself. As if half convinced that he was somehow still dreaming, stuck in some juvenile, high school nightmare.

…And he'd be damned if he _didn__'__t_ start _howling_ right then and there….

He had no idea where the laughter came from, hell he couldn't even remember the last time he had _truly_ laughed, especially like this. But he just couldn't help himself. Because in that moment it didn't matter that the whole thing made absolutely _no_ fucking sense. It didn't even matter that the others were staring at him, frozen in mid motion and gawping at him like he had _finally_ just gone and lost it. He was too far gone to care as his eyes flooded. Misting over with unshod tears of mirth even as he watched the kid rabbit. Diving for his tent in a full on tangle of long ivory limbs and bright green boxer briefs.

In fact, from there on in his chuckles turned into full bodied rumbles. Into embarrassingly loud guffaws that only _grew_ as Glenn stuck his head back out the tent a moment later. Face flushed a rather brilliant shade of magenta, and his 'bitch face' already firmly in place. Because somehow the whole thing only served to make him laugh all the _harder_, slapping his hands on his knees as he totally lost it. Crossbow slipping to the ground at his feet as he doubled over, stomach muscles burning at the abuse as the others ringed worriedly around his side.

But as hilarity is oft to do, the mood seemed to be catching. Because just as he began thinking about pulling himself together, the little one, Sophia, began to giggle. It was light at first, barely there and silting. But like the flood gates on a dam, once in motion, the action itself became all but unstoppable. And as those little peals of laughter rose, the sound so pure and just _that_ fucking _good_, it was dominoes from there on in. With the entire fucking camp just dissolving into barely controlled laughter all around him.

And as Glenn strolled past, jeans now firmly affixed to his lithe little hips, clearly attempting to retain what little dignity he had left to muster as he stalked off. Head held high as everyone nearly collapsed where they stood, the hilarity of the situation all but contagious as the lilting noises went skyward. He couldn't help but feel remarkably like he had just traded one problem for another.

…Well he'd be damned.

**A/N:** Please let me know what you think? Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! Hits and favorites are flattering but reviews do wonders for the writing process my lovelies.

"_At__ the__ height__ of__ laughter,__ the__ universe__ is__ flung __into__ a __kaleidoscope__ of__ new__ possibilities.__"__ -__Jean__ Houston_


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